


Making Dennis Reynolds A Murderer 2: Electric Boogaloo

by angelheartbeat



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blood, Kidnapping, Knives, Murder, Serial Killers, Stabbing, Torture, idk why i wrote this, ig i lov dark dennis babey!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 15:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16390499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: Mac wakes up in an unfamiliar place, with an all-too-familiar man.





	Making Dennis Reynolds A Murderer 2: Electric Boogaloo

**Author's Note:**

> idk! felt like writin some evil dennis! sue me!
> 
> perhaps this will be the first sunny fic to escape my drafts. only time will tell. future me where we @ my man
> 
> this is so bad idk how to characterise or write its been 84 years kill me
> 
> i tried to do that thing the show pulls off so well where its dark as hell but also lighthearted? like the bouncy music vs the gang like. committing arson yknow that kinda vibe  
> dunno how well i pulled it off (answer: not very) but There You Go  
> and then i kinda lost it and its just weird by the end
> 
> mac hasnt come out yet in this either
> 
> ok yknow what just read it

Mac's woken up in a variety of places throughout his life.

Other people's houses, his floor, the odd alleyway - one time he found himself out cold in an aisle of the Wawa.

But he's never woken up to pitch-black darkness, in a chair, with something around his eyes and something else stuffed into his mouth. Now, he realises that sounds like something sexual, but he promises its not.

There's something that feels like zipties around his wrists, and the well of panic in his chest should be less familiar to someone as tough as him. Because he  _is_ tough. He'll bust out of here in a second, no problem. He just needs a second to psych himself up.

The problem with ocular pat downs is that when he doesn't have the use of his eyes, they're pretty fucking useless. He's just ocular-ly patting down what feels like a strip of fabric, and what good is that gonna do him? None, thats what.

Loath as he is to admit it, pulling at the zipties is getting him nowhere. They must be super strong zipties, to hold down a badass like him. With a rising swell of dread, he tries not to think about who could be holding him captive. He's probably being held hostage, actually. If he hadn't been held hostage before and knew how not-fun it could be, he'd be pretty pumped.

Abruptly, the blindfold is pulled off, and Mac blinks in the sudden light - albeit not much brighter than the darkness beforehand - and screws his eyes up as they come into focus. There's a figure in front of him. Time to find out what kind of psycho-

"Dennis?!"

Through the gag, it comes out more like "'Enneh?!" and a little bit of drool.

Dennis smirks down at him - a cold, dangerous smirk. Mac's reminded forcefully of the face he made whenever he would talk passionately about the skin of animals, and an involuntary shudder passed through him.

Now his eyes are more adjusted to his surroundings, Mac still can't tell where he is. It seems like a basement, but its definitely not the basement of Paddy's - he'd recognise that easily from the glue traps and half empty paint cans Charlie left lying around. The single light swinging overhead really adds to the ominous atmosphere.

Mac attempts to yell "What the shit are you doing? Why am I tied up?!" but the gag muffles most of it, and he mostly just produces more drool.

"Ssh, ssh, Mac," Dennis says, his voice eerily soft, and presses a finger to Mac's lips. "No talking. All in due time."

The energy almost constantly bottled in Mac's limbs starts to turn angry, indignant and scared of the situation at hand. He's cold, he's tired, he doesn't know where he is and now he's pissed off. He wants to  _leave._

To this end, he starts thrashing around in the chair, pulling as hard as he can on the zipties and accomplishing nothing besides chafing his wrists somewhat. Kicking his legs only serves to prove that his ankles are tied down too.

Dennis watches him struggle futilely for a few seconds, before frowning and flicking his wrist. A flash of light reflects in Mac's eyes, which widen significantly as soon as he realises that Dennis is holding a knife, and one thats much bigger than a pocket knife, at that.

"Stop that," Dennis says sharply, and Mac obediently stills, but his leg keeps bouncing nervously. The smile Dennis gives him makes him want to vomit. "Much better."

He leans forward and rips the gag from Mac's mouth, who instantly spits and glares up at him. "What the fuck, dude? Let me go!"

"No."

"What, you finally snapped? Where the fuck are we, man? Why do you have a  _knife_?"

Dennis tilts his head. "So many questions, Ronald."

"Yeah, no shit I got questions, asshole! And don't call me that!"

"It doesn't really matter where we are, Mac, because you're not going to be leaving it in any way besides in a body bag."

Mac draws his head back, swallows audibly. "What?" he asks, and his voice is smaller than Dennis has ever heard it. The power trip is immense.

Toying with the knife in his hand, Dennis hums. "You heard me. I'm sure you can deduce whats happening here. Come on, perform one of your famous ocular pat downs."

He spreads his arms out, cocking an eyebrow at Mac, who just stares at him wide-eyed.

"Detected the threat yet, sheriff?" he asks teasingly. "Took you long enough."

He returns to playing with the knife, leaning back against a couple of stacked crates. Mac isn't sure whether to feel furious or terrified. He settles on a raging mix of both, crawling up his throat and sitting heavy on his heart.

"I'm gonna punch you in the face when you let me out of this," he grunts out. "I'm gonna put my fucking thumb through your eye, for real, what kind of sicko pulls a joke like this-"

"Oh, but is it a joke?"

Well thats a stupid question. Of course its a joke. It has to be a joke. No way would the real Dennis ziptie his best friend to a chair in a creepy basement and loosely threaten to kill him. The guy was creepy, but not serial killer creepy.

"It better be a joke, Dennis," Mac says, his breath starting to come short. "But its not a funny one. You're just a psychopath."

Dennis shrugs. "Maybe so. But you're stuck down here with me, so. And, hey - didn't you and Charlie kidnap someone and torture them in Paddy's basement that one time? And you went off and had sex with men at the Rainbow? So, really, who are you to judge?"

Mac feels his cheeks heat up. "I didn't have sex with anyone - and it wasn't even me who tortured him, that was Charlie, and he was drinking paint so its irrelevant."

"I think you just don't like tasting your own medicine."

"Yeah, so what?" Mac frowns. "Who gives a shit? None of this is getting you any closer to cutting these damn zipties."

Dennis inches closer, bringing the blade up dangerously close to Mac's throat, pressing the tip of it into his jugular. "How about we cut something else?"

"Not liking the sexual tone, dude," Mac replies, as lighthearted as he can manage, even with his breath shallow and terrified and his brain in overdrive. "You had your weird fuckin fun, or whatever - can you let me go now?"

Dennis doesn't respond, just pushes the knife a little until a tiny bead of blood forms at the tip, and Mac can hardly breathe at all, he's so panicked. He leans in close, close, close to Mac's ear, until Mac can feel his breath. "I think I'd rather see how long it takes before you break," he mumbles, and Mac's blood turns to ice.

Y'know, something was telling him that this wasn't a joke after all.

* * *

"Does anyone else feel like Dennis has been acting weird as hell recently?" Charlie asks, grabbing a handful of olives.

Dee frowns. "Yeah, I guess so. But then again, he's always weird."

"He's always been weird," Frank adds, and Dee nods in agreement. Charlie grunts in vague agreement, chewing on the olives before furrowing his brow. 

"Hey, where's Mac?"

"Dunno."

"He's usually shown up by now, yknow, with news."

"He's probably just hungover. You saw how hammered he got last night. His liver's gonna be unravelling that mess for a month straight."

"Nah, bro, his liver's been fucked for years."

"Dennis isn't here either, you think they're just hanging out at home?"

Frank snorts. "Probably bangin'."

Both Dee and Charlie make a face of disgust, which then morphs into  _yeah, probably._

"Ah, whatever. They'll turn up."

* * *

"You fascinate me, Mac."

"Oh, yeah? How so?"

Mac hopes he sounds braver than he feels, because he feels like he's gonna shit himself. He  _really_ isn't appreciating a knife pressed up against his throat, just barely cutting through, enough to sting but not enough to produce more than a drop or two of blood.

"How can one man be full of so much denial?" Dennis asks, voice smooth. Mac frowns. "You lie to yourself about everything. Your sexuality, your karate, your parents. How tough you are."

"Uh, screw you, man. I'm not in denial about any of those things."

Dennis tilts the knife slightly, enough to scrape against the skin and make Mac's teeth grind together. "I wouldn't get cocky. Remember who's in control here."

And  _oh_ was he in control. Mac's dark eyes, squinted in barely-contained fear and rage - it sent a thrill through him.

"So what made you finally snap?" Mac asks conversationally, too casual. Dennis chuckles.

"Oh, I snapped a long time ago. If you've seen an article about a woman disappearing in the last... oh, ten years?"

He points proudly at himself with the knife, finally removing it from Mac's throat, who would breathe a sigh of relief if it wasnt for the revelation he'd just heard.

"What, so we've been hanging out with a murderer for the past ten years?"

"You're awfully calm."

Mac doesn't reply.

"That's because deep down you knew, huh? See, Mac, this is what I mean about the denial. I've never known anyone who lies to themself as much as you do. Its almost impressive, actually. You convince yourself that you're straight, and you're tough, and that you've ever done a successful karate move in your life. It's pathetic."

Mac again doesn't reply, but he does look away, furiously staring at the ground.

"Oh, whats wrong? Can't handle the truth?"

"If you're gonna kill me, just do it already, dickhead," Mac grunts, but his voice trembles. "Stop dragging it out."

"Dragging it out is so much  _fun_ , though. I mean, not for you, but really - you haven't lived until you've felt the power this gives you. Too bad you won't get that chance, eh?"

Dennis laughs at his own joke, before pouting at Mac's stony expression. "Don't look like that, come on. At least decide whether you're going to be a scared baby or the closest  _you_ can get to a macho man, for Christ's sake. Stop flipping between the two, its very off-putting. I don't like it."

"Oh, sorry if my reaction to you  _fucking kidnapping and murdering me_ isn't QUITE what you expected,  _Dennis!_ " Mac bursts out, anger thrumming through his veins, and to his surprise Dennis clicks his fingers cheerfully.

"There you go! A little more pep! That's my Mac. God, you were getting boring for a bit there."

Dennis laughs, before swinging his fist with no warning and landing a blow on Mac's cheek. The latter gasped at the sudden pain blooming on his cheekbone, but he had no time to react before Dennis punched him in the stomach. In a split second he went from standing idly to pummelling Mac relentlessly, who could do nothing except sit there and do his utmost to flinch away.

Eventually Dennis pulls away, sweat breaking out on his brow, breathing heavy with the exertion. Mac is shivering, entire body heavy with pain.

"You're actually gonna kill me, aren't you?" he chokes out, brain suddenly opening the floodgates that made him accept that this was  _real,_ this was  _Dennis_ , this was happening, that it wasn't a sick sick joke. Dennis rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, good job, genius. I thought we'd already established this?"

"I- I don't- Den-"

" _Christ._ "

Spinning round and snatching it up from the crates, Dennis brandishes a roll of duct tape in Mac's direction, before cutting a strip with the knife and harshly slapping it over Mac's mouth. He smiled down at the terrified picture beneath him - bruises blooming on his cheekbone, eyes full of confusion and fear, eyebrows pulled together in a cartoonishly affected caricature of anger. 

"Now, ssh. I don't want you alerting anyone with your screams."

* * *

"Mac? Dennis?"

Charlie frowns when his pounding on their door results in nothing, fruitlessly jiggling the handle before groaning and turning back to face Frank.

"This scam ain't a two-person job," Frank says, scowling, and Charlie scoffs.

"Don't you think I know that, Frank? Look, I'll call 'em."

Whipping out his burner phone, Charlie dials Dennis' number and waits as patiently as he's able for Dennis to pick up. When he doesn't, Charlie scoffs again and starts to dial Mac's number.

* * *

"Oh, goddamnit," Dennis exclaims as Mac's phone rings in his pocket. He snatches it out and sneers at the caller ID, before answering in a cheerful voice.

"Hey, Charlie. Whats up, man?"

Mac's eyes widen at Charlie's name, and he returns to the frantic struggling he'd been attempting earlier.

"Why am I answering Mac's phone? Because we're hanging out, that's why. Where are you? ... oh yeah, no, we're not home. We're at a restaurant."

The lie rolls easily off his tongue, clearly natural to him. As he talks, he spins his knife in his hand, nodding and replying along to Charlie's tirade as necessary. 

Then, slow, gentler than you'd think possible, he shoves the knife in Mac's stomach, simultaneously dropping the phone and letting the tinny voice echo. Mac yelps, groaning in pain as Dennis twists the knife, pushes it further, pulls it upward and watches in fascination as blood begins to spread and stain his shirt.

From the floor, Charlie yells; "Dennis? Dennis? Where'd you go, man?"

Dennis smiles, before sliding the phone towards him with his foot and stamping on it, turning it into a pile of circuitboards and plastic. Mac's preoccupied with the wound on his stomach, chest rising and falling a million times a second.

"I'm just getting started," Dennis whispers.

Mac desperately wishes he'd woken up anywhere,  _anywhere_ else except here.

* * *

Ronald "Mac" Mcdonald is the latest in a string of disappearances, all reported as having last been seen with one Dennis Reynolds.

Dennis Reynolds denies all involvement with any of the missing individuals, but friends and family testify that he was best friends and roommates with Mr Mcdonald.

One Charlie Kelly has stepped forward to say that Dennis was last on the phone with him before the call cut off unnaturally, and police are unable to trace the phone that supposedly belonged to Mcdonald.

Until such time as a body is discovered, very little can be done to verify where Mcdonald has gone, and whether or not Reynolds indeed has involvement in the case.

* * *

Dennis isn't an idiot.

He removes all identifying factors from Mac's body when he's done, and then tosses it in the river - weighted down, of course.

Had he any feeling left, he'd be regretful. Mac was a good friend. But he was getting uncomfortably close to figuring out what Dennis was up to, and he couldn't have that.

Only now, Charlie has an inkling of what was going on. And thats almost insulting - the idea that  _Charlie_ of all people can deduce his actions? Unbelievable.

He's not going to stop. Oh, no. He wasn't joking when he said it gave him a power trip. To be in complete control of someone? To feel their blood gushing through your fingers, smell the copper in the air, watch as the life fades from their eyes? That was something he'd never give up. Perhaps it was even more fun with Mac, to watch as trust and friendship faded to rage and terror. To break someone down psychologically before you do so physically.

Exhilarating.

He smiles down at Charlie, tied to the chair, blindfolded and gagged just as Mac was, looking around wildly. Time to really see how a rat reacts to a trap.

The knife still bears the dull hints of Mac's blood.

Dennis laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed this,,, why  
> it ends super awkwardly bc i got bored lol
> 
> my room smells like doughballs and ive eaten too much. death is coming and its in the form of garlic butter
> 
> dunno why this garbage exists actually but iasip is full of garbage people and ig im just addin to that
> 
> come hang out with me on tumblr (@thoriffix) where i woobify mac and beg for asks
> 
> leave a comment or ill chew off ur ears


End file.
